


A Less than Smooth Reaction to Newfound Attraction

by WelshCakes68



Series: The Surrogate [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Female Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 21:05:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2443136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WelshCakes68/pseuds/WelshCakes68
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just what is the <em>right</em> way to react when realising you're totally into your best friend?</p><p>(Carries on directly from <strong>What's Your Type?</strong>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Less than Smooth Reaction to Newfound Attraction

**Author's Note:**

> Back again!
> 
> This fic carries on directly from **What's Your Type?** but if you really have a strong, moral objection for whatever reason to reading that first, I'll catch you up; 'What's your type of girl Margaery?' Q &A. 'Hey, these answers sound a lot like Sansa.' 'Oh shit, they do.' AWKWARD...and scene _[bows deeply]_. There we are, all caught up. =D
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> *WC68*

Sansa pushed open the door of the flat with a sigh of relief, placing her coat on the hook near the entrance. "Finally, we're home!" she groaned happily, feeling Margaery sneak passed her into the flat. Sansa took her glasses off to wipe the raindrops from the lenses, a light shower having started after they got on the bus at _Alchemy_.

Margaery had been awfully quiet on the journey home and, in Sansa’s opinion, had been acting terribly peculiar for the entirety of drinks...well, for as long as Sansa had been there at least. Margaery had seemed a bit pissed off with the Highgarden girls so tensions had been high for reasons unknown; the whole thing had gone over her head a bit. _'Everyone was acting fucking weird.'_ Sansa summarised colourfully in her head.

"Right then, you fancy a cup of..." **SLAM** "...tea?" She finished lamely, staring at Margaery's now closed bedroom door, completely and utterly flummoxed by her mood and sourly deciding to leave her to it. _'Tea for one then.'_ She thought tiredly, making her way to the kitchen.

*~*~*

“Hey, where are you going?” Sansa asked Margaery from the sofa, alarmed, as she made her way to the door of the flat.

“I have a date tonight. Meeting some girl for some drinks.” Margaery replied without looking at her, throwing her coat on in a hurry.

“But _American Horror Story_ is on tonight. I can’t watch _American Horror Story_ alone!” Sansa retorted, scandalised, with a look that clearly said, _Are you crazy?_ Sansa already had two glasses of wine set out on the table, a bag of Dornish-spiced crisps open, her glasses on and cuddled up with Old Nan’s homemade blanket; in other words, ready to lock and load.

“Well, you’ll just have to or wait for a repeat.” Margaery replied, slightly snappily as she smoothed down her hair in the mirror by the door.

Sansa didn’t have a reply and Margaery wasn’t giving her the opportunity to think of one as she hurriedly began to make her way out of the door. She didn’t really know if she had the right to be upset or not. Margaery went on plenty of dates; that wasn’t the issue. This was _their_ night, _their_ routine, _their_ pattern and Sansa begrudged Margaery blowing all that off for ‘some drinks with some girl’.

“Enjoy.” Sansa called pitifully from the sofa, deciding that arguing wasn’t worth it.

Margaery hesitated for half a second, her head twitching as though she were about to turn around before changing her mind. “Thanks.” She replied shakily before she left, the door closing with a resounding thud.

Sansa continued to look at the door for a moment, forlornly, before she rolled over and switched channels. _‘I need a cuddle so badly.’_ She thought to herself dejectedly, wanting more than anything in that moment for Lady, Mother or Robb to hug.

*~*~*

 _“Knees high, knees high! Ten more seconds you useless cunts!”_ Came the booming voice of _The Hound_ through the television. Sansa groaned, arms aching as she managed to push out ten more questionable Mountain Climbers before Clegane called for stretches. Sansa would have sighed in relief if she weren’t panting so heavily. She happily began stretches, going over her shopping list in her head.

Swimming practice had been cancelled so she thought she’d try a new workout programme that Arya had sent her; the guy was like some terrifying drill sergeant but his screaming had kept her going throughout the video so she thought she would try to stick with it. The one thing that she did hate about any exercise that took place outside of the water was the sweating. Sweating wasn’t very ladylike as far as she was concerned. As good as the workout had been, now that she could breathe without an ache in her chest, move without a burn in her muscles and see without spots obscuring her vision, she could feel the sweat in her hair, drying on her forehead and making the lycra shorts stick to her uncomfortably. _‘The whole reason I did the bloody video in just shorts and a sports bra was for the express purpose of minimising the sweating! I want a bath!’_ She lamented to herself.

She was bent forward, chest pressed to her knee and her hands wrapped around her left ankle when she heard the door open.

“What the actual fuck?” Margaery grumbled from the doorway, multiple shopping bags in hand. Sansa thought she could make out an eye roll and a shake of the head from where she peeked out from between her calves at Margaery but she was viewing her upside down so maybe she was mistaken.

“What?” Sansa questioned, thinking that all of the blood rushing to her brain could potentially be messing with her hearing.

“I said, ‘How come you’re not at training?’” Margaery answered, making her way towards their kitchen.

“Coach cancelled. Thought I’d give this ‘motivational trainer’ that Ar keeps banging on about a go. I could leave the DVD in here for you if you want? You know, in case you ever want to try it?” Sansa replied, hiding her smirk in her thigh as she switched legs.

Margaery sneered in derision, not even dignifying Sansa’s offer with a response. _‘Margaery talks about exercise with the same enthusiasm level as she would about drowning puppies.’_ Sansa thought to herself, allowing a chuckle to escape, knowing that Margaery was now out of the room.

A few more minutes of stretching later and the video concluded with Clegane stating, _“See you pathetic bastards next time if you have the balls.”_

Sansa sighed in relief, making her way to the kitchen with the intention of getting a glass of water before she bathed.

Margaery was unloading a couple of bags of food shopping in their small kitchen when Sansa entered and smiled at her; Margaery gave her a peculiar look, her gaze travelling from the top of her head to her feet and back up before she looked away again without saying a word.

Sansa looked down at herself, confused at what had garnered such a reaction. She was a bit pink and had a light sheen of sweat pretty much everywhere with a couple of darker patches at the top of her shorts and in the middle of her sports bra but nothing peculiar enough to have caused Margaery’s strange reaction. _‘Unless she’s grossed out about me sweating near the food or something but even the gym-bunny-antonym over there **must** be able to acknowledge that exercise leads to sweating?’_ Sansa questioned bemusedly.

She stepped up to the cupboard to grab a glass, almost colliding with Margaery who danced away awkwardly without meeting her eye; the same thing happened again when Sansa went to the sink to fill up her glass and again when she went to the fridge to update her shopping list, mentally crossing out the items that Margaery had just purchased. When this happened for a third time, Margaery finally snapped.

“Seven save me, Sansa! You’re in the way! Just move will you?!” Margaery snapped, anger flashing across her normally relaxed face.

Sansa stood, mouth agape for a moment, having no idea what her problem was. “Charming.” Sansa drawled snidely, walking from the kitchen with a disbelieving shake of the head.

“And make sure you move the furniture back!” Margaery called after her, an underlying frustration in her tone that left Sansa flummoxed.

Sansa grit her teeth and clicked her neck slightly, trying desperately to control her temper as she walked quickly to the bathroom to get in the tub before she said something she’d regret later. _‘I am well and truly getting fed up of this shit!’_ She barked in her head, slamming the bathroom door behind her.

*~*~*

Sansa looked over herself critically in the mirror, rubbing her lips together to spread the red lipstick before shaking out her loose hair slightly.

She heard the clicking of Margaery’s heels on the hardwood floor, signalling to Sansa that she had entered the living room. “You’re not wearing that, are you?”

Sansa sighed before turning and seeking clarification. “Excuse me?” She asked tiredly, after two weeks somewhat resigned to her flatmate’s odd, new behaviour.

“You’re just a bit overdressed is all. It’s only an art social. We probably won’t even leave Olyvar’s place.” Margaery replied in a semi-decent attempt at a recovery, looking Sansa up and down more times than strictly necessary considering she’d already deemed her ‘over-dressed’.

“Oh, come on. It’s not been my most social-heavy year since I’m in school Monday-Friday and marking homework all weekend. I just fancied getting a little bit dolled up. It’s no big deal. I doubt Olyvar will care anyway.” Sansa rebuked whilst taking off her glasses to put in her contact lenses instead. _‘It’ll probably make his night.’_ Sansa added mentally having never met an individual more singularly obsessed with women’s clothing, even by gay-men’s standards.

“Are you going to wear a cardigan or something over it at least?” Margaery asked pointedly.

“Why would I wear a cardigan over this dress? It’s hotter than Dorne out?” Sansa snapped back, feeling her control slipping.

“Oh, for Crone’s sake, Sansa! Your tits are spilling out of that thing. Have some modesty!”

“Are you bloody kidding me?” Sansa snarled, lips curling dangerously, unable to believe that her flatmate had managed to unearth a whole new sub-level of unreasonable, unpredictable craziness. Margaery just shrugged her shoulders with an unrepentant look on her face. Sansa turned and slammed her glasses case down onto the small table by the door where she had been doing her finishing touches. “You know what? I’ve had enough. Enough! What is your problem?”

“My problem?” Margaery asked with false confusion though Sansa could see that her cheeks were starting to go pink.

“Yes! Your problem! What have I done that is _so_ terrible to justify you treating me like complete crap for two weeks? Well?”

“I haven’t been…”

“We’re not leaving until you tell me what the problem is!” Sansa stated firmly, crossing her arms and preparing to wait this out.

“Yes, we are. We’re already late.” Margaery replied, having the cheek to sound bored as she walked past Sansa to open the door. She stood in the doorway, an expectant look on her face as though to say, _What’s it going to be?_

Sansa let out a mirthless laugh before grabbing her bag from the table. “You know what? _Fuck this!_ ” Sansa enunciated clearly, noting Margaery’s eyes go wide at the so-rarely-used-by-her curse word. “If _you’re_ not in the mood to clarify then _I’m_ not in the mood to keep you company at a party that will give you an opportunity to ignore me, slash, treat me like shit in a _public_ setting instead of just a _private_ one, as you have been doing for the last two weeks.”

Sansa lifted her head high, raising an eyebrow in a challenge for Margaery to come clean or argue back. Margaery just stood there mouth agape and saying nothing so Sansa strode proudly away from the door. She made it to the sofa where Margaery had carelessly slung her jacket, once again. _‘I mean how hard is it? She passes a perfectly good fucking hook walking through the door just to leave it here!’_ A glaring injustice made itself known to Sansa and she couldn’t help poking the bear one last time, trying to get her to crack. She grabbed the jacket viciously and marched back towards her flatmate. “By the way, since tit-overflow seems to offend your newfound, modest sensibilities so much, I wouldn’t look down; you might see how much of a godsdamn hypocrite you are!” She finished by shoving the jacket into Margaery’s chest, covering her own on-display cleavage.

Margaery glared back at her, putting the jacket on more viciously than she had ever seen anyone dress before in her life, uncaring of the fact that it didn’t go with her outfit at all, before walking out the door and slamming it behind her.

*~*~*

Even though Sansa was extremely upset with Margaery, she couldn't go to bed until she knew she’d gotten home alright. She had stayed up until about one o'clock in the morning watching random stuff on Netflix in the living room when she finally dozed off, spread out on the sofa and cuddled up with her blanket. In truth, she hadn't even realised that she had dozed off until the door to the flat slammed open as Margaery fell through. She was giggling madly to herself as she threw her keys towards the side table, missing it by a foot, before throwing her coat onto the hook...or trying to. _‘At least she’s not throwing it onto the back of the sofa for a sodding change.’_ Sansa though bitterly. _‘No, it’s on the floor now.’_ A darker voice sarcastically concurred.

Sansa rolled her eyes at her flatmates antics, shifting on the sofa and switching off the television, alerting Margaery to her presence. A sloppy smile came across the brunette's face as she stumbled towards the sofa before launching herself over the arm and on top of Sansa. Sansa let out a surprised huff. "Margaery!" Sansa chastised as Margaery climbed up Sansa's body slightly before giving up with a huff of her own, landing with her hips cradled by Sansa's thighs, her face buried in her neck and Sansa could feel the same sloppy smile pressed there.

"Awwww. You waited up for me?" Margaery slurred, clearly delighted.

Sansa was still angry at her flatmate so gave a petulant reply. "No, I just fell asleep on the sofa."

Margaery shifted, lifting her head so her eyes could meet Sansa's squarely. "Oh, come on Sans." Margaery cooed but Sansa just turned her head away. Margaery pressed her forehead to Sansa's jaw and said softly, "Please don't be angry with me."

Sansa started to feel guilty at how sad Margaery sounded so turned her head back to her. "You're the one that's angry with me, aren't you?"

Margaery's groaned, putting her face back to Sansa's neck. "No, Sweet Girl, I'm not mad at you at all." Her words were accompanied by Margaery burrowing deeper into Sansa, cuddling into her. Sansa's arms came up of their own accord, hands stroking along Margaery's spine and shoulder blades.

Sansa was having a major dilemma. Margaery was clearly pissed and Sansa had known since her first year that Margaery had a horrible penchant for answering any question when drunk with complete honesty. Margaery considered this a terribly embarrassing weakness so Sansa had solemnly swore to never ask Margaery a question drunk that she didn't think she would answer when sober and it was a promise she had kept for nearly three years; this was the first time she had ever been tempted to break that promise.

While Sansa was deliberating, trying to talk herself out of breaking this confidence, Margaery spoke up against her neck. "I'm terrified of you." Margaery whispered softly, so softly that Sansa thought she must have heard it wrong though her arms tightened around the smaller girl all the same.

"What?" Sansa asked without any conscious thought.

"You are far and away the best part of _King's_ for me, Sans." Margaery started, one of her hands now stroking clumsily through Sansa's hair. "I can't risk scaring you off."

"How could you possibly scare me off?" Sansa said with a disbelieving laugh before she could stop herself.

Margaery groaned and lifted herself to her elbows to look down at a Sansa though her eyes were so glazed, Sansa seriously doubted that she could really _see_ her. "The bloody girls ruined everything. Stupid, bloody 'Dream Date Twenty Questions'. I was fine but now I'm not." She had an angry crease in her brow and seemed so earnestly aggrieved; she looked so cute that Sansa had to smile even though she had no idea what she was talking about.

"Now they've made me aware and I can't un-see it all. It was just physical stuff at first but now it’s other things too. _You_ things! I love your glasses and I love the belly piercing and your shoulder freckles and those bloody, control-destroying, lycra shorts and how neurotic you are and how you always smell a little bit like chlorine under your perfume and how your accent gets thicker when you’re drunk or sleepy and how you use your hands when you speak so much that it looks like a sort of made up sign language and...and...it's all so horribly adorable that I can barely stand it." Margaery lamented, looking at her and _seeing_ her now, a look of overwhelming fondness on her face and Sansa was finding it hard to breathe as she realised what Margaery was saying. "It's a crush. I'm sure it's just a crush and I can get over it but you don't make it easy, at all." Margaery looked at her with playful chastisement, as though Sansa has been aware and teasing her intentionally the whole time. "Oh, Sacred Seven, come on! Even the eyes wide, Tully Trout, gaping fish impression is cute!" Margaery groaned, pressing her forehead to Sansa's jaw again.

Sansa couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't breathe properly even. Margaery lifted herself up with a smile again and began to run her fingers through Sansa's hair and scalp. Her eyes lit up with an idea as she smiled fondly down at Sansa. "Maybe if I kiss you, just once, I'll feel nothing and we can go back to how it was." Margaery whimpered, sounding pained and unsure, as if she didn't know if the thought brought her comfort or not.

Between the shock of her flatmate’s confession and the firm weight of her pressed against Sansa’s front, Sansa had no air in her lungs to speak, to tell Margaery to stop as she slowly closed the distance between them, if that's even what Sansa _would_ have said had she had the breath. Margaery's lips were soft and gentle; as gentle as the thumb stroking over her eyebrow and the fingers holding the back of her head. When Margaery's tongue, just as gently as the rest of her, stroked over her lips, Sansa didn't even consider _not_ allowing it entry.

Sansa had only 'properly' kissed five people in her entire life: Jon Umber, Joffrey, Harry, Willas and Theon. None of them had had tongue piercings and Sansa was desperately trying to convince herself that it was this piece of metal and not the skill with which Margaery's tongue caressed hers that made it the best kiss she'd ever had. Margaery breathed in deeply through her nose as she pressed herself firmly against Sansa's front and Sansa felt a guilty flush rise up in her cheeks as Margaery's hips pressed against hers and she felt a flutter low in her belly. She took in a ragged breath through her mouth, breaking the kiss and almost groaned in frustration as Margaery pulled away, Sansa's lips following of their own accord before she came back to herself.

There was a moment of perfect silence as they just looked at each other, Margaery’s finger’s still running over her face. "Well, that backfired horribly." Margaery said drily and with scorn, clearly speaking to herself. She buried her face back in Sansa's neck, making herself comfortable, as though preparing to drift off to sleep. "I'll start getting over you tomorrow, okay?" Margaery murmured into her neck before playfully licking the skin there firmly, her piercing making Sansa jump, the leg thrown off of the sofa twitched noticeably and she let out a small moan, the fingers anchored on Margaery's hips flexing tightly. Maragery sighed and pushed her hips into Sansa's again, assertively, making her shiver softly. "Of course, you'll have to never make that noise again if I'm to achieve that." Margaery stated seriously, placing her lips to Sansa's neck, this time giving it a sweet, closed mouthed kiss before she nuzzled into her, breathing becoming deeper and sparser, her weight getting heavier as she fell asleep.

An hour or so later and Margaery was still sleeping soundly on her 'Sansa-Mattress' while the younger girl was still wide awake, questioning, analysing and replaying what had happened over and over again in her head.

 _'This is not something to panic over, Sansa.'_ She coached herself calmly. _'This is Margaery we're talk...thinking about. A very drunk Margaery who became a little exuberant and chatted some gibberish at you. This is **not** something that needs to be analysed to death. We will have an adult and rational conversation about this in the morning.'_

Margaery started to stir, sleepily and adorably wiping her eyes before standing and, without a word or even, seemingly, recognising where she was or with whom, walked calmly to the bathroom and closed the door softly.

As soon as she heard the soft thud of the door, Sansa jumped up, threw the blanket back onto the sofa and ran to her room, making her footfalls as soft as possible. She stayed close to the door of her bedroom, leaving it open a crack to peer out. Margaery stumbled back to the sofa blindly, not pausing at noticing Sansa missing and collapsed onto it as gracefully as she had the first time. Even though Margaery didn’t seem to realise _what_ was missing, it seemed that she did realise _something_ was missing and after a moment of tossing and turning she huffed, lurching to her feet as she wrapped Sansa’s blanket around her shoulders and staggered into her own bedroom.

Sansa gently closed her bedroom door and threw herself, face down onto the bed and tried desperately to switch off her brain.

*~*~*

A few hours later, with relatively little sleep, Sansa was stood in the kitchen making coffee, torn between wanting Margaery to stay in her room all day so that Sansa wouldn’t have the opportunity to broach what had happened and wanting more than anything for her to emerge so that Sansa wouldn’t constantly go back-and-forth on what to do in her head.

Margaery did finally emerge and sat down heavily at the table, her brown curls in mad disarray around her head, obscuring half of her face. She clicked her tongue drily before burying her head in her arms with a groan.

Sansa felt a shiver go up her spine and turned away quickly, trying not to recall how Margaery’s groans had rumbled from her chest directly into Sansa’s when they were pressed together earlier that morning.

The kettle finished boiling and Sansa quickly distracted herself by making two cups of coffee on autopilot; milk and one sugar for herself and black with two sugars for Margaery.

She put the mug down softly in front of Margaery and made to leave the kitchen without engaging her at all when she heard, “Wait.” She turned around slowly and Margaery was looking at her now, somehow managing to look focused, even with red eyes. “I’m sorry about last night, okay?” She put forward softly. Sansa tried to keep her face blank, not certain of which part of last night she was apologising for. Margaery rolled her eyes a little bit but nodded in acceptance that Sansa was waiting for more and not letting her off that easily. “You were right. I’ve been off with you for a couple of weeks now and it’s totally unfair. But, it’s not because…I don’t…I’m not _angry_ with you; I’m angry at other people and you just have the misfortune of being in the vicinity. I’m sorry. You have not deserved how I’ve been treating you.” Margaery concluded, looking to her earnestly and nodding her head slightly as if to ask, _Enough?_

“Okay.” Sansa replied, drawing a finger around the ring of her cup and biting her lip.

“Really? That’s it? You were so angry with me when I left last night.” Margaery prodded, a little confused, obviously having prepared herself for further grovelling.

 _‘And there it is!’_ Sansa thought to herself, not sure if she was relieved or disappointed that Margaery’s alcohol induced blackouts had persevered once again.

“That’s it.” She confirmed with a nod and little enthusiasm.

“Okay.” Margaery replied, eyes squinted in suspicion. “Want to watch some TV or something then?” She broached carefully.

“Okay.” Sansa replied casually, turning and cringing as she approached that bloody sofa, looking at it as if it had done her a great wrong. _‘Okay. We were prepared for this.’_ Sansa started coaching herself and the other voices in her head. _‘We didn’t think it would actually happen but we were prepared for memory loss. We have seen it with her many, many times before.’_

She cozied up on her end of the sofa, knowing that there was a 50:50 chance that Margaery would sit on the sofa with her or in her chair on the other side of the table. _‘And really, what are the odds that…oh, for fucks sake.’_ She tried valiantly not to huff as Margaery sat next to her, seemingly still trying to make amends, choosing to sit close to demonstrate that she wasn’t angry with Sansa. _‘What did we agree?’_ Sansa asked the Old Gods, looking imploringly up at the ceiling. _‘I would remain loyal while in the South and wouldn’t switch to **The Seven-Side** if you helped me out once in a while.’ ___

Margaery smiled at her as she put down her mug and picked up the remote and Sansa’s heart did a little flip. _‘This is ridiculous. I was fine yesterday! Why am I not fine now?’_ Sansa lamented, recalling that Margaery had said something similar earlier on. _‘It’s like some sort of switch has been flicked and suddenly things that were absently noted yesterday are now ridiculously endearing points to observe.’_ Sansa thought to herself, sneaking looks at Margaery out of the corner of her eye while she flicked through the channels. Margaery’s eyes were easily her most distinguishing feature; large doe eyes that made her look innocent like Bambi whilst still maintaining the swagger of Maleficent. _‘That shouldn’t be appealing!’_ She chastised herself. _‘Neither should the patch of freckles on her chest when I hate my own or the way she does an absolutely appalling Northern accent sometimes to take the piss and make me laugh or that she never orders her own dessert but helps herself to half of mine. She **does** give good hugs though; firm ones that remind me of Mother and Arya. Her hugs manage to make me feel less homesick sometimes. She’s the first person I was ever really able to open up to about everything that happened with Joffrey. She’s protective of me. She looks after me. She’s had my back for three years, since the moment I met her. The family loves her. Lady loves her. And, as she pointed out last night, she is completely, one-hundred percent aware of **all** of my crazy and, amazingly, isn’t scared off by it.’_

_‘Right, sort it out Stark. It appears that there are two potential options; either I forget about it, try ignore the fact that I had the best kiss of my life from my flatmate last night and am suddenly attracted to her, knowing that she is trying to do the exact same thing while suffering in silence or…’_

__“So, what are we watching?” Margaery asked as she patted Sansa’s knee. If last night hadn’t have happened then Sansa probably would have just picked up her mug and stolen the remote without thinking twice on the gesture; but last night had happened. She looked at Margaery’s hand and noted the slight tremor to it and when she looked at her face she noted the tightness around her mouth as she tried to keep it set in a composed, casual mask._ _

__They just stared at each other for a moment and Sansa could practically hear the buzzing of the charged space between them. Sansa licked her lips nervously in response to the tension, the action drawing Margaery’s gaze down to her lips, pupils dilating to hide the amber brown and…that was that._ _

Sansa grabbed the tangle of curls at the back of Margaery's head and tugged her lightly forward, pressing her lips firmly to the other girls. Margaery inhaled sharply in surprise and didn't immediately respond. _'Oh gods, oh gods, no! Miscalculation. Miscalculation!'_ Sansa felt the heat of mortification rising to her cheeks but couldn't bear to pull away yet and face the music that was Margaery, keeping awkwardly still instead. Sansa was seriously debating how fast she could have her stuff packed up and moved out when Margaery's hands came up to cradle her cheeks and pressed their faces more firmly together. 

__Sansa wasn’t sure if her sigh was more from relief or pleasure as she once again felt the thrilling presence of Margaery’s tongue piercing. She smiled into the kiss and pulled Margaery closer still before gasping at the sudden appearance of Margaery in her lap, straddling her thighs and pinning her to the back of the sofa._ _

__It was different from the night before; Margaery had been careful then, slowly testing a theory but now she was recklessly kissing Sansa with abandon, clearly not feeling any wariness this time around because Sansa had initiated this kiss. Her hands didn’t stray away from Margaery’s face, neck or arms and neither did hers which Sansa was actually grateful for, this being enough to wrap her mind around for the moment. Even though hands were out of the equation for the most part, it was still a pretty heavy make-out session so, eventually, Margaery pulled away to gulp in some air. Margaery had a smile on her face but looked down at Sansa questioningly and Sansa felt her shoulders hunch and her body sink deeper into the cushions, not wanting to answer questions with lies but not wanting to explain everything to Margaery that she had seemingly forgotten._ _

__“Well, that was…unexpected.” Margaery put in lightly with a crooked grin._ _

“Mmmmmm.” Sansa replied with a half-smile, the omission distracting her with minor guilt. _‘ **‘Mmmmmm’** isn’t yes or no. **‘Mmmmmm’** isn’t lying!’_ Sansa justified to herself. 

Margaery raised an eyebrow at her lack of reply. “Is that a good- _‘Mmmmmm’_ or a bad- _‘Mmmmmm’_?” Margaery asked, looking slightly unsure.

“Good- _‘Mmmmmm’_! Definitely good- _‘Mmmmmm’!_ ” Sansa jumped in, hands lifting so that her thumbs could run over Margaery’s hips reassuringly.

__Her smile in return was beaming and dazzled Sansa slightly into smiling soppily back. Margaery leaned forward and put a lingering, teasing kiss to the corner of Sansa’s smile which made her eyes close happily. “So,” Margaery started, her lips still half-pressed to Sansa’s, “do we need to talk about this?”_ _

__It amazed Sansa that Margaery actually broached the topic of discussing their feelings and relationship, knowing that, in the past, she could come out in a rash just thinking about it. “Definitely.” Sansa replied, turning quickly to steal a quick peck from her lips with a smile. “But, not just yet. I want to bask for a while first.” It was Margaery’s turn to look surprised, eyebrows shooting up for a second at the fact that Sansa Stark didn’t immediately want to get a notepad out, analyse, examine and list how this could work between them but just smiled and stole a kiss of her own._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed?
> 
> Kudos and Comments appreciated.
> 
> I don't have a Beta currently and though I draft these things about twenty times a piece, spelling and grammar errors do sometimes slip through the cracks so my apologies; feel free to point them out because they do annoy me so.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> *WC68*


End file.
